


The Order

by Spaced_Out_Cadet



Category: Mass Effect, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alien Mythology/Religion, Angst, Assassination Plot(s), Conspiracy, Conspiracy Theories, Eventual Romance, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I blame the Illuminati, Puppet Masters, Religion, Romance, Secret Societies, Spiritual, They're Always Watching, Violence, traumatic childhood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 08:16:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11204034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spaced_Out_Cadet/pseuds/Spaced_Out_Cadet
Summary: Shepard had never been one to entertain conspiracy theories but what was to be a simple mission has her questioning everything she'd ever believed to be true. She's about to get a full-on look into a dark and dangerous world she'd only read about in books...a world her newest crewmember is intimately acquainted with.This will eventually be Thane/OC centric but with a very healthy side of FemShep/Garrus.





	The Order

**Author's Note:**

> My inner conspiracy theorist is hard at work. I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think :)

If she had been anyone else, Commander Deirdre Shepard would have probably broken down by now. The responsibility of saving the entirety of galactic civilization from the Reapers weighed heavily on her narrow shoulders. Added to the strain was the fact that the Citadel Council had dismissed her claims of an imminent Reaper invasion as the ramblings of a mad woman leaving her and her crew standing alone against the eminent onslaught. Her affiliation with Cerberus, though not of her own choosing, had gone far in tarnishing her reputation as a Spectre among the non-human members of the Council. It isn’t as if she’d had any choice in the matter. She’d been dead, after all. They didn’t seem to care about the circumstances, though. In her opinion, they’d only reinstated her to get her out of their presence.   
Out of sight, out of mind, as they say.

It was a fine arrangement, she decided, once she’d finished screaming and throwing things around her cabin. She was free to pursue the best course of action, follow up on leads as she saw fit, and collect the best warriors in the galaxy to fight by her side without any of the Council’s political bullshit to contend with. That, of course, left her with TIM as the unlikeliest of allies. As much as she loathed The Illusive Man, even she had to admit that the bastard had an eye for talent. Each new recruit amazed her with their prowess and skill. Their dossiers hadn’t even managed to scratch the surface of how formidable they were. As far as teams went, she couldn’t have asked for better.

Her amazing new crew, however, came with a price. Each one of them seemed to have some issue that needed attending to before they would commit fully to the mission. It was exhausting and she couldn’t, for the life of her, understand why they couldn’t see the bigger picture. Personal vendettas would cease to matter if they all woke up dead tomorrow. The Reapers couldn’t care less about petty, personal bullshit. Despite the internalized gnashing of her teeth, she was doing her best to help each one of them tie up their loose ends. In the end, she supposed it was the least she could do in return for asking them to essentially kill themselves.

She was physically, mentally, and emotionally drained from the effort. Her latest excursion with Garrus, a man she hadn’t even realized she’d been head over heels in love with until she’d found him and nearly lost him just as quickly on Omega, had almost done her in as well. The turian still wasn’t speaking to her and it broke her heart but she was convinced that, had she allowed him to kill Sidonis, it would have only damaged the broken man further in the long run. He was the one, the only one she could always count on. He always had been, she realized. Strong and steady. Always there whenever and for whatever she needed. Seeing him in so much pain, ready to crumble, made her question her own will to keep going.

He was so quick to blame himself for something he had no control over. In his grief and guilt, he had somehow confused revenge with justice. She hoped he came around soon to the fact that murdering Sidonis wasn’t the answer to his anguish. He had always been her rock, her anchor. She needed him…perhaps more than she was comfortable admitting just yet. She hoped, perhaps selfishly, that he needed her just as much. She’d been hurt once already by Kaiden but, Garrus was different and not just in the physical sense. Their friendship meant everything to her and, should the opportunity arise for it to develop into more, she wouldn’t be opposed to a change in the dynamic but at the same time she didn’t want to damage the friendship they’d cultivated. 

That, however, was a worry for another day. Or at least for a day when the turian decided she was worth talking to once more. Right now, she had to focus on getting her crew squared away and mission ready first and foremost.

Speaking of which, her latest acquisition for the Normandy Menagerie was a mystery wrapped up in an enigma and she’d been so focused on Garrus that she hadn’t yet had time to explore the paradox that was Thane Krios. The drell didn’t congregate with the rest of the crew. He seemed to prefer the quiet solitude of life support to the more populated areas of the ship. She had walked in to check on him on more than one occasion to find him quietly meditating or staring blankly off into space, presumably wrapped up in one of his memories. He spoke little but what he did have to say was done so with a quiet, reserved politeness she wouldn’t have expected from someone with his occupation.

Having an assassin on board didn’t exactly put her at ease, especially one of Thane’s caliber, but she found she trusted the man for some reason. The short conversations they had shared since he came on board convinced her that he was a man of his word. She’d discovered that he wasn’t at all what she’d originally believed. His deep spirituality had been a surprise and she’d mused that he was probably more suited to a career in the priesthood than the life of a hired killer. He spoke little of his personal life outside of the Compact, an arrangement Shepard found to be abhorrent but he had insisted was some sort of honor for his family. She tried to chalk it up to cultural differences but it still nagged at the back of her mind whenever they spoke.

He’d also been up front with her regarding his failing health. The drell had admitted to her that he was terminally ill. He made a point of letting her know that he wasn’t contagious, even to others of his kind, and that his health was being taken care of. Kepral’s Syndrome, he’d called it. His assurances that it wouldn’t affect the mission did little to quell her concern but she had decided to let the issue drop…at least for the time being. Any doubt she’d had in regards to the dying man’s physical abilities had been put to rest on their last mission together. She needed everyone at their best and so long as he was at his she wouldn’t rock the boat too much. But, that wouldn’t stop her from doing some poking around on the sly to see if there was anything she could do to help.

She’d brought both crew mates along for her current mission. It was supposed to be an easy in-and-out type of deal. They were to rendezvous with a man, an esteemed xeno-archaeologist, who had recently dug up some sort of ancient Prothean relic that TIM believed could be used in their fight against the Collectors/Reapers to gain the upper hand and possibly turn the odds around in their favor. The Illusive Man had been, well, elusive concerning the specifics of the archeological find only letting her know that it was imperative that they get their hands on it before someone else with less noble goals got there first. The plan was to meet the mark, Dr. Hans Keonig, at his apartment on the Citadel, retrieve the artifact, and get it back to the Normandy ASAP so that Mordin could begin unraveling its mysteries.

If nothing else, she believed that Garrus could use some time off the ship to help clear his head and, hopefully, come back to his senses enough to realize she wasn’t his enemy. It would also give her an opportunity to get to know the assassin a bit better without the distraction of dodging bullets. Things were off to an amicable start. Garrus was quiet for the most part but he’d stopped that low, irritated rumble he always produced deep within his chest whenever he was upset about something. That, at least, was better than nothing and made the trip worthwhile. Shepard accepted it as an improvement and made simple small talk with Thane about his training under the Hanar. Though she was vehemently opposed to acquiring and training young children in the art of assassination, she found the drell’s stories fascinating nonetheless.

The taxi they’d hailed at the start of their adventure began its descent into a very upscale neighborhood in an area of the Citadel that Shepard had never had any reason to visit before. The palatial housing units screamed money and influence. It was exactly the type of place she’d expect a renowned xeno-archaeologist who chaired museum boards and traveled the known galaxy giving lectures on alien pre-flight pre-history to reside in. What she hadn’t expected, however, was the housing unit they were looking for to be completely surrounded by C-Sec officers and medical personnel. Yellow crime scene barriers blocked off the entrance to the complex but were moved aside to accommodate the entrance of a coroners’ vehicle and an ambulance.

Shepard slowly climbed out of the taxi and her stomach dropped. “You can’t be serious. What the hell is going on here?” 

She wasn’t too surprised to discover that she felt the urge to break down and cry. Nothing was ever easy or simple and it seemed sometimes as if the entire galaxy was conspiring against her, trying to defeat her in the war before the first real battle was even fought. She was startled out of her stupor when a strong, taloned hand descended upon her shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze of comfort. She turned slightly, a shiver of emotion lacing through her chest when she met the concerned, ice-blue eyes of her turian companion.

“Shepard,” Garrus hesitated, his dual toned voice hitching slightly at the reflection of near despair in the normally strong-willed Commander’s brown eyes. His hand slipped reluctantly from her shoulder. “I, uh, I recognize a couple of the guys from C-Sec. Let me go ask around, see what I can find out.”

Shepard nodded, swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat and watched the turian turn to leave, staring off in the direction he’d gone for a long moment before remembering she had another crewman awaiting her next order. Squaring her shoulders, she turned to face the drell. “Well, Krios, it looks like our simple pickup just got a lot more complicated.”

Thane surveyed the scene around him with large, seemingly impassive, dark eyes, his hands clasped loosely behind his back. “Yes, it would appear so.”

“Shepard!”

The Commander turned back to the scene, her eyes automatically drawn in the direction Garrus had disappeared to. Seeing the turian beckon her over, she took a deep breath and nudged the drell with her elbow. “Come on, Krios. Maybe looks are deceiving and this isn’t the shit show it appears to be.”

The assassin smirked slightly at the woman’s vulgarity and followed obediently.

As Shepard approached, she could tell by the grim expression on Garrus’ face that she wasn’t going to like what she was about to hear. Mustering her fortitude, she braced herself for the worst. 

“Shepard,” Garrus met her halfway, another turian decked out in C-Sec blue in tow. “This is Detective Barrius. He’s in charge of this investigation. You’ll want to hear what he has to say.”

Swallowing the cold lump of dread that had formed in her throat, Shepard nodded in greeting, “Detective Barrius. What’s going on here?”

“That’s what we’re trying really hard to figure out.” The Detective sighed, “We have two decedents. The house keeper discovered them this morning when she arrived.” 

Shepard felt her jaw tighten, “Is one of the deceased Hans Koenig?”

“Yes. He's the property owner,” the officer confirmed. “When Dr. Koenig failed to come down for breakfast, the house keeper went upstairs to check on him and discovered the bodies.”

Garrus rumbled, the law enforcement officer within him rearing its head. “Any suspects? Witnesses? Have you worked out a timeline? Do you have a motive?”

“The scene is…its…complicated.” Detective Barrius’ voice flanged in frustration. “Like I said, we’re trying really hard to figure it out.”

Commander Shepard could feel frustration of her own bubbling just beneath the surface. Why did every little thing she tried to do end up in a filthy, tangled mess? Why couldn’t anything go according to plan just this once. She tamped down the string of explicit language she longed to let loose and instead drew a breath deep down into her lungs before slowing releasing it. 

She grit her teeth but nodded in understanding, “Do you mind if we look around? It’s important.” She added as an afterthought, “Spectre authority.”

The Detective looked pensive for a moment before nodding, “Of course. The techs should be almost done processing the scene for evidence. I’ll radio them and let them know you’re coming up.”

“Thank you, Detective.” 

Turning on her heel, Shepard moved swiftly through the crowd of police and emergency personnel that swarmed around the outside of the home. She was acutely aware of the solid, steady presence of Garrus flanking her left side and was thankful for it. Things may have been chilly between them now but he was still there next to her. Right where he was supposed to be. Where she hoped, he would stay.

Her freshly acquired assassin brought up the rear.


End file.
